


Quasar

by Celty



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, GET IT, H4h4h4h4h4h4, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Is it really implied though?, M/M, Multi, Nick's new nickname, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Please Don't Hate Me, Robot Guy, Unrequited Love, Why do I Write This Shit, Work In Progress, haha - Freeform, nick-name, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-07-21 15:23:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7392934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celty/pseuds/Celty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unmentionable piece of personal, pre-war history sneaks up on Nick Valentine after he thought he had finally put that which haunted him previously to bed.</p><p>Subsequent blame falls on M!SS and Hancock because those dweebs dug it up. Dicks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

\---

“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”

“My daughter is dead! My daughter is dying! Please help! _Please_!”

“Your daughter is dead?”

“She’s dying! She’s on the floor and bleeding; she needs help!”

“Is your daughter conscious?”

“I don’t know--she’s on the floor on her back and she’s not moving! She’s--she’s been beaten!”

“Okay, ma’am, I want you to stay right with her, okay? Don’t leave her.”

“I--I won’t--! Oh God, please! Please help me!”

“Is anyone else in the house?”

“Her boyfriend--he left! I think he did this to her. He was just here and he ran out of the house! He had blood on his shirt--I think it’s her blood!”

“Okay ma’am, stay with me okay? I’m going to send someone out to you. What’s your name?”

“My name.. My name is Rosalind.”

“And your daughter’s name--What’s her name?”

“Her name is Heather! Please, oh God, please send help!”

“Just hang tight, ma’am. Stay with me, okay?”

“Oh God… Oh God!”

\---

Millton General Hospital had little luxury to to oversee the complete sanctuary of all who entered. When Heather Hogueland was wheeled in, Rosalind was kept in a separate waiting room, alone, sobbing and shaking. Rosalind’s face had the slightest hint of sag of a woman who worked longer hours than she deserved to in an office with little more to keep her company than a desk fan and an out-dated terminal. Her dark oak hair, normally host to thick, lovely curls, was now frazzled and messy. Her cheeks were stained and her eyes were red and puffy. She wore a pink dress and tennis shoes, the dress with a pale blue flower pattern that resembled something one would wear to bed on a hot Sunday evening.

In her hand was a phone. She furiously dialed, sitting on one of the pale yellow couches., hunched over with her elbows on her knees. She was alone with little more than a dark screen glowing dim with letters of her intended call-number. She put the phone to her ear, “Please pick up… Please…” She whispered to herself, cursing as the ringing tone was cut short. No answer. No nothing.

“Damnit…” She dialed again, faster this time. “Nick... please... Please pick up. Please I beg of you…” she whispered again, voice trembling. No answer again. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t happening! Rosalind tried dialing one last time, a sob escaping her out of desperation. The phone clicked, but it wasn’t Nick. Someone else. A woman from the office.

She answered with a curt, “Hello?”

“Nick.. Where’s Nick?” Rosalind gasped.

“He’s out right now. Can I take a message? Is this an emergency?”

“Yes--yes. M-my name is Rosalind, and I need to speak with Nick, it’s urgent! Please tell him to call me as soon as possible… Oh god…”

“Rosalind, right? Have you already called nine-one-one?”

“Yes.. Yes, I have. I’m at the hospital. My daughter, she was attacked. Please--Mr. Valentine is a friend of the family. Please tell him to call me as soon as he can!”

“Ah, alright. I’ll let him know.”

“Thank you so much!”

\---

Two doctors and several nurses attended to the girl in the emergency room, as cold as the walls in which they worked with stern discipline. Heather laid upon the gurney, half of her face black and blue, blood streaked from her nose and scalp. Her clothes were ripped, hair matted and eyes sealed shut, black and swollen. Cuts and bruises covered her body.

A Nurse Handy was at her side, appendages carefully easing an oxygen tube down her throat. “Severe damage to the cranium,” he piped, “Brain swelling is imminent. Emergency decompressive craniectomy is advised.” One doctor glanced at the robot, “Additional options, please.” Nurse Handy held Heather’s head still in a gentle grip, “Cryogenic immersion is also advisable, sir.”

The two doctors looked to one another. One was older, hair white with a thick moustache, “Her brain won’t wait. We’ve not the luxury to sit here and debate.” He looked to one of the nurses, “Speak with the mother. We need her consent before we can proceed.” The nurse nodded and briskly left to speak with Rosalind.

A return call never came for Rosalind, and instead was met with the dreadful news that her daughter was close to dying as a result of her injuries. Removing the cap of her skull would have devastating aftereffects, ones that Rosalind was not prepared for and couldn’t otherwise handle. She signed the consent form with tears once again in her eyes, using the last of her coherency to utter one last plea to save her little girl.

Heather was stabilized with what the remaining nurses and doctors could manage, and she was rolled deeper into the neurosurgery sector of the hospital. The nurses and younger doctor were left to see to other patients as the white-haired man and Nurse Handy continued onwards, rolling the gurney through three sets of double doors, equipped with maglocks. The sign above the final set of doors read “Neuropreservation”.

“Ah--” the Nurse Handy spoke out, unusually given his programming, “Sir, this is not something I can advise. Is--is liquid nitrogen truly necessary?”

Towards the back of the room, frigid and dry, were rows and columns of round, steel hatches, each equipped with three glowing diodes and a crank, similar to the handle of a safe. Most of the lights were green. The one he rolled Heather two had lights that were dimmed gray. “To ensure she survives? Yes. Absolutely necessary.” The doctor worked furiously, beckoning the Nurse Handy to assist him in opening the hatch. Once it was opened, he slid up the gurney, attaching the metal ends above Heather’s head to the couplings within the container. The white-haired doctor nodded towards the terminal, “Hold this end while I enter her in.”

The Nurse Handy floated towards the foot of the gurney, clamping onto the metal railing as the doctor fiddled with the terminal, entering Heather’s information and registering her for the cryopreservation slot. “There,” he sighed, breath coming out in a billow of steam. The couplings turned and cranked, pulling in the gurney. The Nurse Handy guided the gurney in with one appendage, while the other held the detachable wheels as the slot swallowed Heather whole. Her body had been strapped down, clothes replaced with a tarp. Once the bed of the gurney was completely inside, the hatch swung shut and the lights began to blink.

The computer echoed, “Credentials...Verified. Patient registered as…. _Heather. Hogueland._ Please stand by.”

The small, coffin-like chamber in which the girl was stored began to chill, depressurizing.

“Patient Vitals...Stable. Automated Life Support Engaged. It is now safe to lock the hatch.”

The doctor took hold of the bars of the revolving handle, cranking it tightly to the left. The maglocks within clanked shut. The lights on the hatch glowed a bright, healthy green.

The Nurse Handy looked on towards the doctor, “Will she be alright, sir?”

The doctor glanced briefly towards the hatch as he turned towards the doors, preparing to leave, “God willing.”

The Nurse Handy turned and followed, “Such a shame… What with Halloween right around the corner…”

\---


	2. Chapter 2

Millton General Hospital had certainly seen better days. What was once a bustling university of suffering and healing was now a mere tattered spectre, sitting hunched and torn; a withered statue. A painful reminder.

Shaun was born here. The memory of what this place was made it uncomfortable for Isaac to venture forth. The first time he set foot into the proverbial sanctum-turned-graveyard, it was on a quest to save a friend from the mad leader of a raider outfit. Even now, Isaac wasn’t entirely sure how he managed to fight his way through. He thought at first it was about Kent, saving him as the Silver Shroud, this pre-war Ghoul with a fondness for superheroes and comic parafernalia that matched his own. The sight of Kent, beaten, bruised and bloodied, with an injured leg, had sealed Sinjin’s fate.

Maybe it was the essence of the grimdark hero giving him the strength to press forward. Maybe it was about heroism. Protecting the Commonwealth, making it safer with one less asshole to push people around. Vengeance. Justice. Judgement.

No.

No, it was none of that. Even after rescuing Kent and making for the exit, passing the room in which Shaun was born was… painful. He hadn’t returned to Goodneighbor for a week, and Hancock had asked just where the fuck he’d been. Kent returned, but no Shroud to be seen or heard from. Once Isaac returned to Goodneighbor to deliver the news, albeit late, he appeared ultimately worse for wear, and Hancock could only assume he took the brunt of Sinjin’s punishment.

It didn’t become apparent until later, shortly after the vault-dweller had expressed his appreciation for Hancock in a cozy shack equipped with a plush mattress and warm mood lighting. Hancock was, after that, pretty wary about venturing to Millton General for scavenging. It was difficult for Isaac, and Hancock saw just how lost he seemed to become while standing idle in the lobby, as if he were reliving the same dreadful memories of a world that no longer existed. This time, like many others before, Hancock put his hand on Isaac’s back, trailing his fingertips gently below the shoulder blade, “Hey… Let’s get a move on.”

It brought Isaac back to attention, for which the Vault-dweller was thankful. He gave Hancock his usual goofy smile before proceeding with the Ghoul deeper into the silent recesses of the hospital.

Their primary quarry were pieces of higher tech, anything that could be scrapped for parts and materials, mostly to sell. Isaac would, however, bring back goodies for the settlements. As luck would have it, Millton General had been picked pretty clean.

“We should start heading deeper, I think,” Isaac mused as he rummaged through stacks of old documents. The papers were stale and the ink was all but faded to nothingness beyond the imprint of the pen that left the marks. “There’s not much left up here. May be more in the basement.” Hancock nodded, following the Vault dweller towards one of the working elevators. The car stalled as it descended, the sound of the cords scraping against the pulley system echoing and bouncing against the walls of the shaft. They both glanced at once another as the elevator stopped, rumbled, then continued its descent.

“Damn,” Hancock piped.

After a tiny ding, the doors opened with a barely audible, “ _Basement_.”

Something was off, though and Isaac noticed it right away. Double doors that once were blocked by huge piles of debris were now clear, albeit haphazardly as if whoever had done so was in a hurry.

“Hey,” he shot a glance towards the Ghoul, “Stay here and keep watch. I’m going to check this out.”

Hancock looked on nervously at the doors, giving a brief nod. Isaac set to work on opening the doors, finding that they lead to a tunnel that had stone steps at the other end. He ventured down the tunnel, lighting the way with the light of his PipBoy. The tunnel was not quite as refined as the rest of the hospital--as refined as it could be following two hundred years of post-apocalyptica--crafted simply of concrete and pipes running along the ceiling. The steps were short and curt, to the point where Isaac went out of his way to bypass two steps at a time witch each stride. The security gate at the top of the stairs was unlocked and he crept through, another pair of sliding doors opening automatically as he approached.

From within poured clouds of frigid air and Isaac sucked in a breath, “Whoa shit…” He squinted his eyes, peering inside through the frigid fog.

Hancock followed him down the tunnel, squinting his eyes in the dark and calling after him., “What did you find?”

The memories of Vault 111 began flooding back. It was all too familiar to him, the icy cold rooms where the pods sat in sterile silence. It took him a moment to answer, his heart beginning to pound, “I don’t know.”

When Hancock saw what it was, he hissed, “Shit.” Isaac ventured further in, looking at the rusted walls lined with circular hatches. It was very different from the Vault, that was for sure. But it didn’t ease his anxiety, not in the least bit.

“This can’t be another one of those fuckin’ Vault-Tec things… could it? Somethin’ ain’t right about it,” Hancock crept up behind his lover, glancing at him and moving to stand in front of him slightly in a protective stance.

Isaac shook his head, “No. No, this isn’t Vault-Tec. This is part of the hospital, I think.”

“Let me guess; there are _people_ being frozen down here,” Hancock scoffed.

“People or their internals, yeah.”

“Wait, what?”

Isaac nodded towards Hancock, somewhat bewildered, “Yeah; mostly cadavers and deceased patients.” He rose his hands to gesture as he worked to explain, “Organs that are still healthy are harvested from a willing donor and preserved this way until they are moved to be transplanted into a patient that needs it.”

“Gross,” Hancock huffed, wrapping his arms around himself while his breath came out in small white clouds.

“But effective,” Isaac smiled, “Nora, when she… when she was alive. She donated one of her kidneys to me. Complications and such.”

“Oh,” Hancock looked on at Isaac, guarded and a bit concerned from bringing up such a sensitive topic. Isaac, however, seemed okay talking about it.

They were interrupted by a familiar voice, mechanical and accented with eloquent usage of the King’s English, “Hello there!”

The Nurse Handy was pristine, as if the war hadn’t touched him. “I say, I do not believe you are authorized to be here! Unless you are come to replace Doctor Hansley? I would hazard that his shift ended around two hundred and ten years, seven months, and exactly one week ago today! Ha ha ha!” He floated up to them, looking at each of them with two of its three eyes”

Isaac glanced at Hancock, who shrugged at him, “Uh, Doctor Hansley?”

“Indeed! He is the head Neurosurgeon of Millton General, born in the year twenty-twelve and a graduate of the ever-prestigious Yale university! He does, however, seem quite… expired,” the Nurse Handy turned, motioning towards a pile of bones draped in a lab coat, next to a wall-mounted terminal, “…for lack of a more appropriate term. Now! This area is quite restricted! I trust you have valid credentials?”

Isaac took a moment to answer, and Hancock cringed as he made it up on the fly, “Uh, yeah! Of course! My partner and I both have valid credentials, but we unfortunately left it in our other work pants.

“Oh dear, that is quite unfortunate! I will see if I can find spare identification keys for your use. For now, however, there is one patient who requires your attention,” the Nurse Handy hovered towards the terminal. The lights on the hatches on the wall were all either dimmed or glowing bright red.

Except one.

“She has been in cryogenic neuropreservation therapy since October fifteenth, two-thousand seventy-seven! After monitoring her closely, I dare say she’s made a somewhat full recovery. I, however, do not have the authorization to extract her. Doctor Hansley was to remove her, but he feared complications and… something about cannibalism and.. preservation of his humanity. Dying with dignity… something like that. But now that you’re here, we can release her and she can return to her mother!” the Nurse Handy said cheerfully.

Isaac and Hancock both looked at one another, freezing momentarily before they both bolted past the robot, making him spin with a, “Whoa!” and getting onto the terminal, “Which one!?”

“Must be this one,” Hancock looked on at the only hatch with three glowing green lights. “Try it.” Isaac peered from the terminal at the hatch Hancock referred to and began typing, “Uhh…” Click clack click. “Shit… Goddamnit, I don’t know how.”

“To release her, you must first disengage the cryogenerator, sir!” the Nurse Handy piped happily, “Enter code five-seven-eight-two-six!” Click click clack click.

“Warning,” the computer rang out, “You are about to disengage _Cryogenerator_. _Eight_. Please confirm by entering your five-digit passcode.”

Clack click click.

“Command acknowledged. Disengaging _Cryogenerator _. _Eight_. Commencing decompressive superthaw from suspended animation. Releasing hatch. Monitoring patient vitals. Please stand by.”__

__The green lights on the hatch began to blink and the sounds of a pressure valve releasing hissed from the vents that dotted the ceiling. Hancock shivered and Isaac stood next to him, wrapping an arm protectively around the Ghoul. The Nurse Handy floated past them to the hatch, using his pincer to turn the crank handle. “Please stand by,” he said in a more automated tone, “Extraction procedure is underway.”_ _

__Isaac and Hancock watched as the Nurse Hand pulled open the hatch slowly and easily before rolling the detachable wheels fashioned for a gurney up towards the slot. Hancock and Isaac both peered inside, getting too close for the Nurse Handy’s taste._ _

__“Back! Back I say! These are very delicate proceedings! To interfere is a punishable act in accordance to Millton Employee manual Chapter twelve-point-seven Section B!” The robot shooed them back with his buzz-saw, the blade whirring with a quick spin to establish his seriousness._ _

__“Warning. Extracting patient. Vitals: normal. Emergency personnel on stand-by.”_ _

__Isaac and Hancock watched as the Nurse Handy hooked his pincer around a metal handle at the foot of the gurney, carefully guiding the bed of the gurney out of the slot. Laying on the red cushion, covered in a tarp, was the body of a girl. Woman, technically—she appeared to be around twenty-five or so years of age. Her head was tilted back, eyes taped shut, with the oxygen tube still in her throat, secured about her face by a mask. The oxygen machine instantly eased air into her lungs, and her chest rose and fell for the first time in over two hundred years._ _

__“There she goes!” the Nurse Handy said cheerily, using his pincer to remove the tape from her eyes. They fluttered open, lids still a dark shade but no longer swollen. They fluttered about, darting from side to side before landing on Nurse Handy, who spoke to her in a quieter tone, comforting but still upbeat and loud enough for her and the two men to hear._ _

__“Hello, miss Heather! Do you know where you are right now?”_ _

__Heather’s eyes looked around, but clearly couldn’t answer thanks to the tube._ _

__“Yes? No? .. Oh, goodness! You can’t rightly speak with _this_ thing down your throat, can you. Please relax for me, miss Heather. I will remove it for you. Just lie still.”_ _

__Isaac and Hancock both looked at each other, as if near to panic. The Nurse Handy delicately used his pincer to unhook the mask. “This may be uncomfortable, miss Heather. I will make it as quick and painless as I can!” The Nurse Handy clamped his pincer around the tube just above her nose. “And-a one! Two! Three!” he pulled the tube from her throat, eliciting from her racking coughs and a hideously painful flinch in her facial features. While Heather quieted from her coughing fit and the Nurse Handy went about disconnecting the oxygen tube, Isaac and Hancock could only stare on in disbelief at the scene before them._ _

__It was as if the war never happened in this area. Was this girl truly just waking up from being in a coma for two hundred years?_ _

__Hancock was the first to break the silence between them, “Well, she looks a lot better than the doc, that’s for sure.”_ _

__Isaac was too bewildered to respond._ _

__“Now, miss Heather, do you know where you are?”_ _

__Her coughs quieted, and she answered weakly, “N..no. But ..I assume a hospital. Or a RobCo freezer.”_ _

__“Ha-ha! Such a sense of humor! You are in Millton General Hospital, miss Heather. Do you remember how you got here?”_ _

__“…No.”_ _

__“Oh dear! It’s worse than I thought! You have… Post-Traumatic Amnesia!”_ _

__Heather sighed, albeit roughly due to her throat, “I know why I’m here… just not how… I assume someone brought me…” She gave a soft breath, struggling to sit up with a grunt, holding the tarp around her. She looked up, her eyes pale in the dim lighting of the lab. She looked at Isaac and Hancock respectively._ _

__Her eyes went wide as she looked at the Ghoul, but she did not scream out, only uttered, “You don’t look like doctors.”_ _

__Isaac sighed out his response with a shrug, “That’s because… we’re… not.”_ _

__“Hey,” Hancock waved to her._ _

__She timidly waved back, “Then… who are you?”_ _

__Isaac shook his head, “Before we start this, let’s get you clothed and out of this freezer. No doubt you’re uncomfortably cold in just a tarp.”_ _

__Heather looked down at herself. She had only recently unthawed, but her body had not yet begun to shiver._ _

__“Uh.. yeah. Sounds good… I guess.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Nurse Handy was more fun than I anticipated. Oops?


	3. Chapter 3

Isaac didn’t think this through.

He very rarely thinks anything through; a good one of many reasons why he brought Hancock with him everywhere. Despite his Ghoulishness, Hancock took over where Isaac so pathetically failed. The absolute grotesque nature of the Commonwealth had imprinted itself so thoroughly in Isaac’s mind that the idea that anyone waking up would experience shellshock similar if not worse that he himself endured when he first left Vault 111. Hancock was likely the first indication to the girl that something was terribly, terribly wrong. She never took her eyes off him, her expression teetering between intrigue and utter terror. Her look softened when he smiled at her, offering her his arm.

“I know it’s not exactly pretty,” he said with a nod, “But hey, who is in this day and age?”

She gave a breathy chuckle as she took his arm. A warm smile crossed Isaac’s features as he watched them. Heather seemed to relax as Hancock helped her off the gurney. It wasn’t until her foot touched the bones of the deceased doctor on the floor when the actual screams started. She jumped away from the bones, turning to grab onto Hancock, her body wracked with a sudden fit of hyperventilation. Hancock grabbed her tightly to keep her from falling as she seemed to flail against him like a startled doe.

It was the first step into tearing down her world.

“Miss Heather! Miss Heather, please calm down! Do not fret so! You may injure yourself! Or re-injure yourself, as it were,” the Nurse Handy approached.

Isaac had utterly forgotten the bones on the floor, and his eyes went wide at the sudden, frightened outburst.

When initial terror subsided, she blurted out in a strained voice, “What—what the hell? What happened!? Whose bones are those? Why are they here?!”

Hancock flinched.

The Nurse Handy was more than happy to offer an explanation, “That is Doctor Hansley! He was the surgeon who administered you to the—“

“Why the fuck is he dead?!” she blurted, to which Isaac cringed. He rose his hands in an efforted gesture to calm her, “There’s an explanation for this.”

“I should say so!” the Nurse Handy interjected, “Doctor Hansley and I were both trapped in here after the bombs fell. Dreadful business, that!”

“Wait--what, bombs?”

“Well, there was kind of a war.”

“Isaac…”

“Yes?”

Hancock glared at the Vault dweller, “This can wait. Seriously.”

“Oh--right. Come on.”

\---

Leading Heather through the hospital up to the lobby wasn’t quite as taxing a journey as was anticipated by both men. Her reaction to the complete disrepair of the hospital was less than a little frantic; not nearly on the same level as her outburst over the bones of what was once Doctor Hansley, head neurosurgeon. “This has got to be a dream…” she whispered on more than one occasion. She let go of Hancock’s arm as she gradually regained her strength, instead holding the tarp around her body like a beach towel. On numerous occasions, she stopped to look at a busted piece of equipment or a note left by a nurse. The Nurse Handy followed the trio, sticking close behind Heather.

Just before the double doors that lead to the lobby, she stopped, “Wait.”

The two looked back at her expectantly, stopping in their tracks.

She looked between them, “This… war. When did it happen?”

Isaac hesitated, glancing at Hancock as if for approval, “It… well, the bombs… they dropped October twenty-third. Of twenty-seventy-seven.”

Heather’s eyes widened at the date, “That soon?”

“You were administered to the hospital just a week prior, Miss Heather,” the Nurse Handy spoke up. She looked down at the floor, “I only remember a few days before that… I knew there were tensions, but… Oh, Jesus.” Hancock turned and proceeded into the lobby, making a b-line towards one of several abandoned suitcases. From it, he pulled a set of clothes; warm flannel top and a pair of jeans.

Isaac lead Heather out into the lobby, where she took the clothes and hid behind a Nuka-cola machine, ditching the tarp for the clothes procured for her.

When she stepped out from behind the Nuka Cola machine, she looked around at the remnants of bodies long since having rotted away. Everything was rusted or falling apart or dead. The dim lighting of the lobby illuminated her features better than the decrepit darkness in the previously explored areas of the hospital.

She was slender, with fair skin and platinum blond hair that hung to her shoulders in wavy curls. Her eyes were dark and large, with narrow, unassuming eyebrows that held an even curve above her eyes. She looked at them as they looked at her, Hancock smiling and nodding in approval. She looked at the grinning Ghoul with a little smile of her own, “Thanks. These fit nicely.”

“I know how to dress ‘em.”

“Now that I’m dressed my Sunday best… I guess I should tell you who I am,” Heather shrugged.

“A little trusting, aren’tcha? Perhaps it would be fair if we told you who we were first. Tit-for-tat and all that,” said Hancock, taking a step forward, “Name’s Hancock; Ghoul Mayor extraordinaire.”

Heather tilted her head, “Ghoul?”

Hancock nodded, pointing to his face, “This handsome mug of mine is a result of high levels of radiation. Well, radiation drug, technically, but that is what a Ghoul is. Highly irradiated human beings.”

“Oh… Well, you’re alive and not in horrible pain. So it can’t be all that bad. You honestly just look like… a burn victim. No offense. My first instinct was to tell you to go back to your hospital room.”

Hancock laughed, “Oh I think I’m gonna like you.”

Isaac smiled between the two of them, “My name is Isaac. I… well, I was in a Vault. Also frozen. I was …well, _there_ when the bombs fell, so to speak.”

Heather looked to him, “Really? That… must have been scary. I wasn’t qualified to be put into a Vault myself. But I guess being punched nearly to death was a blessing in disguise, right?”

Hancock visibly flinched. Next to him, Isaac’s eyes widened, his eyebrows shooting up, “Wait, what? You were attacked?”

“That is why I’m here. I don’t remember it as it happened, but… I saw it coming. My name is Heather, by the by. Thank you for waking me up, I suppose. I only wish it was in a less… war-torn environment. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask another favor,” she said with a slight cringe.

“We are the type who enjoy doing favors for those who need it,” Hancock said.

“There’s someone I need to find… make sure is okay. He’s a police officer. Friend of the family,” she said, voice hesitant, “You might know him if you’re from around here. His name is Nick Valentine. I don’t have his badge number, though. I know his usual haunts, but I really don’t want to go by myself.”

Isaac seemed to pale at the mention of that name. “Ah, Nick Valentine?”

“Yes. Does he sound familiar?”

“You could say we know him,” said Hancock, “We know where he is. We can take you to him.”

Isaac looked to Hancock, mouth opened to protest, but nothing came forth. The Ghoul looked at him and rose his brows with a gesturing nod, “It’ll be fine.” Isaac’s unhidden look of worry didn’t falter.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Heather, who spoke up in a quiet voice, “What’s..? What’s going on? Is Nick alright? What’s wrong?”

Hancock smiled at her, “Nothing is wrong, Heather. Just relax. We’ll get you to Nick. Before we go though, it may be best if we first scrounge around for some supplies. Hey Bot--” he turned towards the Nurse Handy, “Any spare supplies you can rummage up for us before we depart?”

The Nurse Handy spun his pincer in gesture, “I will see what I can find! If you believe Miss Heather is ready for release!”

\---

The world beyond Millton General had effectively knocked the wind out of Heather. Everything was broken. Damaged. Dangerous. Sinister, almost. It wasn’t the Boston she knew. The shock was almost too much for her to handle upright.

Almost.

She stayed close to them, feeling small and completely foreign to the place she practically grew up in. The trip to Diamond City was nerve wracking; although Isaac and Hancock both were focused and capable, like trained soldiers specializing in guerrilla and stealth tactics. She felt cold as they weaved through the rubble and avoided enemy territories, killing Ferals as they appeared and keeping a healthy distance from Gunners and Super Mutants. It very nearly didn’t occur to Heather that a substantial amount of time had passed since she was administered into cryopreservation. Given the bones of the doctor in the freezer, she had a growing anxiety she had been out for far longer than she originally hoped. She remained silent, however, at least until the two men relaxed their gait once the coast was clear and Diamond City was just around the corner.

“I’ll wait out here,” Hancock said with a nod, hanging back once they reached the entrance to Diamond City. Isaac stopped and turned, passing the Ghoul a confused look, “Why? I would think that with the Mayor dead, his policies would have died with him.”

Hancock shook his head, “No, it’s nothing like that. We need to get back to Millton to salvage what we can. As much as I would hate to have you dump our precious cargo into Nick’s lap and bolt, we need to get a move on as soon as we can.” Hancock’s eyes were oily black, iris and sclera both, but Isaac had always been able to tell when there was more to Hancock’s words than he let on. Heather looked between them briefly before looking on at the entrance to the Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth.

“Is… There really a city in there?” she mused aloud.

Isaac only gave Hancock a nod, watching him as he turned and lead the girl into the city. Heather followed him, distracted and looking around. “Why is it called Diamond City?” she asked, briefly pausing as the realization hit her, “Oh—because it’s… Ohhh. Clever. I get it.” Isaac smirked and chuckled, leading her to the back alleys, where she stopped, glancing at the red glowing neon signs.

“Detective Agency…? I mean… he’s just a cop, though… Did the police force dissolve or something? Were they not doing any kind of rationing after the bombs hit?” she asked, looking to Isaac, who stopped and turned around to face her.

“It’s a long story, Heather,” he said, “One that isn’t really easy to hear. It may be better if you hear it from Nick than someone you just met.” His voice was light, as if about to break terrible news to her, “Just… the Commonwealth has been through a lot. Like… _a lot_ a lot. Be prepared for anything, okay?”

Heather shrugged, quirking a thin brow, “What’s the big secret? Everyone’s acting like something worse than the bombs dropping happened, but everything seems to be picking up okay. So please, what’s going on?”

Isaac couldn’t speak for a moment and instead glanced down at the ground. “Just come on,” he said, “Nick is inside.”

Heather’s shoulders slumped. She hesitated a bit before following him down into the narrow alleyway and making a left turn. He made a quick, brisk knock before entering. Heather again hesitated, blood running cold in her veins with anxiety. _Okay, you can do this… It’s just Nick._ She followed Isaac inside, letting the door shut behind her.

“Oh, hey there, kiddo,” came that familiar tone of voice, but seemed more gravelly than Heather remembered. She practically hid behind Isaac, who stood smiling at the detective, “Hey, Nick!” Isaac looked around, noticing a glaring lack of a certain Ellie Perkins, “Oh, where’s Ellie?”

“Errands,” Nick said simply. He was sitting at his desk, one leg crossed over the other and a cigarette between the index and middle fingers of his metal hand, “Or so she says. What brings you here? And… what’s that you got? Or should I say who?” He tilted his head, catching the movement of another body behind the Vault-dweller.

Isaac’s smile dropped and he looked behind his shoulder at Heather, “Ah—this is…”

“Nick?” Heather piped nervously, peering out from behind Isaac.

A sickening hush fell across the three of them, and Isaac paled, feeling as if a bomb was about to detonate right in Nick’s office.

Slowly, Nick stood up from his chair. He recognized that voice. Isaac smiled at him sheepishly, nervously, but Nick made no visible effort to establish it.

“No… It couldn’t be…” he said, voice barely above a whisper, “Hogue?”

“Hogue…?” Isaac tilted his head.

“Nick!” Heather slipped out from behind Isaac to greet the officer, but stopped upon seeing the detective. Nick approached her slowly, never taking his eyes off her face as her expression changed from elated relief to horrified confusion. She made a brief glance to Isaac before locking her gaze with Nick’s, who stopped in his tracks.

“Nick?” she said again after taking a shaky breath.

“Heather…” Nick started, voice low and quiet.

Heather shook her head, “No, no. This isn’t real. This can’t be real.” She looked to Isaac, backing towards the door, her voice quivering, “Is this a joke? Is this some sick, shitty, terrible joke? Because nobody’s laughing! Especially not me!”

“Heather,” Isaac turned towards her, steadying his voice to try and soothe as best he could, “Please. I promise, this isn’t a joke. This _is_ Nick Valentine. He just--”

“Isaac,” Nick said sharply, silencing the Vault Dweller. His voice, however, softened, “Enough. It’s alright. She’s frightened; she’s confused; she’s angry. Like how both of us were.” He looked to Heather, who had shrunk back against the wall, her eyes beginning to shine with tears.

“Hogue, sweetheart.”

Heather looked up at him, “Only… only Nick calls me that… and, and Jenny…”

Nick heaved an exasperated breath, glancing at Isaac briefly, “I want you to sit down, Hogue. Catch your breath and calm down.” He offered her a gentle, almost pained smile, “Everything will be alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to repent for my sins.


	4. Chapter 4

Given the recent string of events occurring literally within his doorway, Nick was easily not the happiest Synth in the Commonwealth. Part of him immediately wanted to glare holes into the sheepish Vault Dweller, to lecture him on how _inconsiderate_ and _not smart_ bringing Heather here was _immediately_ after waking her. After hearing a brief synopsis of what had happened within the last twenty-four hours, Nick wanted to slap him silly. Immediately after sitting down, the girl was reduced to a shivering heap of tears and terrified sobs, appearing just as small as she must have felt. Even with the immense turmoil that engulfed Heather like embers on a leaf, Nick found himself knowing exactly how to handle her, despite the growing despair he himself felt coursing through his metallic underparts.

The most recent thing before waking up in a heap had to have been before Nick had his brain scanned, which occurred weeks, perhaps even months before the events that lead to her ending up in Millton General. He could find no recollections of receiving any messages from Rosalind. How and why Heather ended up in cryogenic neuropreservation, Nick was most interested in finding out. That would have to wait, though. For now, he busied himself with the conflict of whether or not to physically sit with Heather and comfort her, or refraining for fear of upsetting her more. He was quite obviously not the Nick she was expecting to see. This body was just too foreign, and his sudden lack in ability to comfort her the way he used to… the way _Nick_ used to... it broke his heart.

Instead, the Synth took his trench coat from the back of his chair and draped it gently over her shoulders. It was much too big for her, but it covered her like a blanket. She seemed to vanish within it, like a pillbug under a tissue. He reached forward and gently touched a hanging lock of hair. When she didn’t pull back, he relaxed, pulling up a chair to sit in front of her. 

“Heather,” he spoke, voice soft and assuring, “It’s alright. You’re here with friends.”

“You’re not Nick,” she whimpered, voice shaky, “You’re--you’re not him, you can’t be him!”

Nick allowed a small moment of silence to pass before speaking again, “I know. You’re right. I’m not. I’m not the cop you were expecting to see. It would be insulting to say otherwise.” He shot a dagger-like glance in Isaac’s direction, who ducked his head meekly, not allowed to leave just yet. “You’ve been through more than enough in such a short amount of time. Perhaps it’s best if you lay down and rest.”

Heather shook her head, holding the trench coat around her tightly, “I want to go home…” She sniffled and kept her head down, exhaustion beginning to take its toll.

“I’m sorry babydoll… Your home is… well it’s probably all but destroyed. The bombs… they were dropped quite a long time ago. But this is a discussion for another time. Let’s get you to bed and we’ll sort this out when you’re in better shape,” he said.

Exhaustion convinced Heather to comply, no matter how she hesitated. At Nick’s behest, she curled up on the mattress of his bed--unused and well-hidden from the rest of the small enclosure Nick called his office and home. Nick allowed her to keep the trench coat, using it was a blanket while she sniffled herself to sleep. Once she was quiet, Nick pointed his gaze towards Isaac, “A word, please?”

The two men stepped outside, and Isaac braced himself.

“What the fresh _hell_ is wrong with you?” Nick started, voice stern but not quite raising to a yell, “Dragging her across the Commonwealth for something she wasn’t prepared to see? Have you lost your damn mind?”

Isaac reached a hand to scratch the back of his head, “Where should I have taken her? I couldn’t just leave her in the hospital, Nick.”

“No, but making her cross through such dangerous environs like that was irresponsible at best. What if a stray bullet had caught her? What then? I know you’re capable and a damn good scrapper but she could still have gotten killed out there. Not to mention dragging her all that way to see _this_.” Nick motioned to himself. His normally neutral-worn face was now creased with a father’s disapproval. Isaac hated that look.

Nick sighed and brought his flesh-clad hand to pinch the bridge of his nose right between his eyes, “She’s safe and sound, if not just scared. I really would have appreciated at _least_ a heads up, kiddo. Truly.”

Isaac pressed his back against the metal wall of the alley opposite the door to Nick’s home, “So you know who she is, then?”

“Don’t change the subject,” Nick snapped, a little more bitterly than he intended to, “This is about me punishing you for being stupid.”

“Nick, come on,” Isaac pushed, “You’re the first person she asked about. You said her name without even me telling you who she was. There’s obviously some history here.”

Nick sighed again, tightly closing his eyes and pressing his back against the door. It took him a moment to answer, head tilting back slightly. He groaned.

“Yes. There is. Well, Nick Valentine history, anyway. It’s complicated and not really worth the hour of your life it would take to explain it to you,” he looked at Isaac, adopting a tired look himself. “The memories of Jenny are… much stronger, all things considered. But Heather… Hogue. She’s there. She was always there. Always…” his voice trailed slightly, “...always afraid that she was crossing the line or was trespassing where she didn’t belong.” Nick shook his head, “I am not discussing this. Not now. Not with you. Not… yet, at least…”

Nick looked at Isaac straight, “I need you to leave, Isaac. Go back to whatever business you were fussing with before you found her. I… I need to tend to her on my own.”

Isaac nodded in understanding, “Yeah… I getcha. I’m.. sorry for putting you through all this. I thought it would be best to bring her straight to you. I didn’t even think about how it would go down… certainly not like _that_.” 

“Yeah… She’s… well, she’s not fragile, but… she wasn’t ready for this. For any of it. Even if you needed to remove her from the hospital, at least take her to a smaller settlement where she could have gotten used to this place. Oh well… What’s done is done. I need to see to her. She’ll be safe here with Ellie and I. I suppose I should thank you for bringing her here, even if it was a terrible idea. Now get out of here.” Nick turned to head back inside and Isaac nodded, “Call for me if you need me. I’ll check back later.”

Nick shut the door quietly, heaving a little sigh and shutting his eyes.

What a mess.

He moved to sit at his desk, eyes glancing over case files that now meant nothing to him. He rose his fleshy hand to his temple, closing his eyes. In the background, he could hear Heather’s soft, rhythmic breathing as she slept. He tilted his head back, looking at the ceiling. When was the last time he actually saw Heather? Or, well, when Nick saw Heather, that he could recall. It was after Jenny had died. She tried to approach him. Was afraid. Eddie Winter had become akin to a mortal nemesis. He became like an obsession. She pleaded with him to stop.

It was like an insult. Straight through his heart. He told her to leave. To return home. To _just get out_. He had work to do. He had no time nor patience for her.

And out she went, face red and creased with tears and embarrassment.

What an awful memory, regardless of how spotty and washed out it was.

When Ellie returned, the sun had gone down completely, and Nick was still at his desk, running diagnostics for the night while intentionally ignoring the cases in front of him. Taking his mind off the situation at hand would do more good than harm, especially in his effort to keep Ellie from panicking when he told her to hush as soon as she walked through the door. He sent her to her own quarters for the evening, telling her to not worry so much about it. Two frantic girls in one evening was the last thing Nick needed.

He would prefer drowning in the Whitechapel Charlie’s swill.

\---

When Heather awoke the next morning, it was actually well into mid-afternoon. She stared at the wall, motionless, her head flat on the mattress with Nick’s coat covering her. The rust and peeling paint off the metal was an unkind reminder that this was, in fact, not a dream. It was all her new reality, one she couldn’t escape from. She heaved a quiet breath as she closed her eyes for a quiet moment, feeling her heart beating steadily within herself. Part of her wondered how it continued onward, given the state the world was in.

“Hogue?”

The gravelly voice came from behind her, quiet and easy. Like she remembered _before_... well… before.

She didn’t answer, but continued to stare. Why was _he_ here? What could he possibly want?

“You’ve been asleep for longer than I thought you’d be,” he remarked, and she felt the shift of the mattress behind her as he sat on the edge, “Not that I blame you. This is a lot for you to process.”

“What do you want?” Heather managed to force out. Her voice was quiet and strained, typical from having just woken up.

“To make sure you’re okay, for one.”

“I’m not okay,” she answered quickly, “What else do you want?”

Nick was silent for a bit, resting his hands on the edge of the bed before speaking, “To talk to you. About yesterday. About you. And about this.” When Heather didn’t respond, Nick continued, “I’m not going to go around pretending to be the man you wanted to find, Hogue. I’m not Nick. Not the Nick you know, at any rate. Before the bombs, Nick agreed to participate in an experiment. Had his brain scanned and copied. The data copied from his grey matter was installed into my head by my.. ...by the people who created me.”

“You’re not even human,” her voice trembled. Nick could feel it cracking.

“I’m a Synth, Hogue. Synthetic person,” he continued quietly noting her sniffling, “With Nick’s memories and personality trapped inside… making me who I am.”

“Where is he?” she forced through shaky whimpers, pulling his trench coat around her tighter.

Nick didn’t answer, his eyelids lowering.

She was crying now, not hard, but enough. “Is he dead?” she forced out again.

Nick pressed his lips together, silently contemplating lying to her, to protect her. A shameful thought. But he had not the luxury to hate himself for thinking it, “I’m sorry, Hogue.”

He felt her tighten behind him, curling into a ball under his coat. The fabric muffled her sobbing. He turned, looking at her over his shoulder. He put his metal hand on her shoulder as she wept. Her voice was further drowned as she raised a hand to cover her mouth. Nick turned more to face her, putting his left hand gently against her hair, “Heather… I know you’re in pain and you’re scared. But I need you to speak with me about all of this. I’m not Nick. But I have enough of him imprinted in my skull to know I can at least try and help.”

Her breath hitched as she began to hiccup. She seemed to almost panic, forcing herself and holding her hand tight over her mouth. Her face was streaked with tears, as was the smallest bit of his trench coat, he noticed, as it fell from her shoulders. He got up, grabbing a can of purified water and handed it to her, “Here.”

She nearly chugged the water, her eyes shutting tight and stinging from the tears.

Nick couldn’t help but smile, albeit sadly, “You’ll be alright, Hogue. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gg isac u fuq'd up


	5. Chapter 5

The next month or so was nothing short of nightmarish. For Nick at least.

After learning of the death of Nick Valentine the police officer, Heather found herself unable to stay within the cramped abode Nick and Ellie both called home and office. She left during the day, getting lost in Diamond City and not returning until nightfall. Nick knew he had no right to police her actions, but damn if it didn’t worry him senseless when he awoke to find her usual place on his mattress empty. He thusly directed his anxieties towards Ellie, who has since calmly reassured—or _tried_ to reassure—him multiple times that Heather was fine, she’s an adult and can look after herself. Without at least knowing where she was, however, Nick found it difficult to concentrate and to simply take Ellie’s word for it.

Heather had come to trust Ellie enough to let her know where she was going, either in quiet conversation or through little notes found throughout Ellie’s belongings. Ellie proved to be a comforting female companion that Heather could turn to when she needed her. It would take Heather many more moons to recover from the traumatic revelations she had undergone within just forty-eight hours of her waking, but it was encouraging to see her get up and leave the little home to explore this new world she found herself in.

The world was different and strange in so many ways. One late night in particular, she snuggled into bed with Ellie while the brunette was reading from an old dusty book. Heather’s hair curled more sharply with fewer stray strands as a result of going unwashed. Thick twisting locks covered almost half of her face. Her eyes were big with wonderment. Ellie was sitting up on the mattress in a shirt and shorts, a thin blanket covering her legs. She scooted to make room for the equally clad blond, offering her a little smile. Heather settled, curling up close to the other.

“So what’s the deal with caps?” she asked, voice lowered in a hushed whisper, “Like… bottle caps? I wanted to get some noodles but I didn’t have any caps to give that Protectron.”

“Caps are money,” Ellie said, laying down her book and looking at the other girl, “I’m not really sure how we started using caps as currency, or when, even. But all the pre-war money is pretty much useless now.” Ellie shrugged, “The pre-war money is all disintegrated from the passage of time and all that. Caps are sturdier.”

Heather looked down, considering it, “Weird. That makes sense though… I just never expected it to be bottle caps of all things.”

“You don’t have to go buy food you know. We have food here,” Ellie said after a brief pause.

Heather shook her head, “No. I don’t want to be a charity case.”

“What makes you think you’re a charity case? I mean, the world kind of ended. Everyone is technically a ‘charity case’.”

Heather sighed and shrugged at her, “I just like my independence, I guess. Earning what I eat and all that.”

Ellie quirked a brow at her. She noticed how sunken her eyes were. “Please don’t think you’re a charity case, okay? You’re not. Nick just wants you to be comfortable—“

Heather had to interrupt her, quietly and gently, but still she rose a hand, shaking her head.

“If ‘Nick’ is what that robot guy wants to call himself, fine. But he’s not Nick. He’s not _my_ Nick. He doesn’t…” Heather’s voice trailed off and she looked away, her face briefly adopting a look of guilt, “…he doesn’t know what he wants.”

Ellie drew her knees up to her chest, quirking a brow and tilting her head at Heather, “Well that’s not very fair to say. Even if he’s not the Nick you knew before the war, he’s still his own person.” She looked down at her feet, bare against the dark mattress, “I mean… I don’t wanna force you to accept or even like him… What with all you’ve gone through. But just… give him a chance, maybe?”

Heather was silent for a moment. She wasn’t looking at Ellie.

“It’s… really complicated,” she said finally, looking back at the brunette, “I don’t know if I can talk about it… I mean… After Jenny died…” she looked down at their bare feet. She was silent again, lips parted as if she were about to speak, but the words didn’t come. Ellie peered at her.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, “Knowing that Nick is gone… it hurts. I don’t know if I can face Robot Guy. I don’t know what he is to me. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel.”

Ellie nodded, “You need to grieve. That’s understandable.”

Heather nodded, her eyes glazed over and her hand reaching up to wipe them away. Her voice was thick with emotion and she sniffled, but she did not dip further, “Yeah. Just like he didn’t get to.”

\---

“How mad was he?”

“Very. He even told me to leave.”

“Damn. It must be some pretty serious shit.”

“Said we shouldn’t have brought her there. Should have dropped her off at a settlement.”

“And what good would that do? Leaving her with a bunch of people she doesn’t know, wondering where the hell ‘Nick Valentine’ is? Why did these two assholes wake me up from being on ice only to drop me here and not come back? Nothing. That wouldn’t help. Nicky may be angry but he’ll get over it.”

“She broke down in front of him.”

“Better that it happens quickly. That way she’ll be able to heal faster.”

Isaac stopped behind Hancock, the guilt of dumping the girl on Nick clearly evident in his features. Those pale hazy blue eyes killed Hancock every time when they were sad, “Did we really do what was right?”

“Isaac _stop_ ,” Hancock looked away from him, scowling, “Seriously, put those heart guns away. You know I can’t handle them. I know it’s upsetting, but there’s no point in dwelling on it. She’s right where she needs to be.”

Millton General was thoroughly empty. Hancock and Isaac both checked the freezer and only found body parts and preserved corpses. Since then, they had been in the hospital for hours collecting scrap and caps. The whole ordeal weighed heavily on Isaac, and Hancock had to put up with those damn sad puppy eyes more than he would like to admit. Not that there was much he could do except try to comfort the big softy. It wasn’t difficult to do so, and Isaac had nearly forgotten about it well into the following night. They stayed in the hospital, sleeping and cuddling on one of the larger couches; Hancock on his back with Isaac laying with his head cradled against the Ghoul’s chest. Hancock had no legitimate need for Isaac to blanket him, but he purred in his comfort, his eyelids lowering to form black slits. One wouldn’t think it looking at the Vault dweller, with his athletic physique; tall and muscular, but not overly so, with tattoo sleeves and part of his head shaved, how much of a big goofball he was.

Kind, loving, happy.

Cuddly.

Snuggly.

Isaac snuggled against the Ghoul like a big puppy. Hancock’s gnarled hands found their way to his hair and his spine, both relaxing into sleep and inviting a calm hush throughout the hospital.

A storm rolled in, slowly, with thunder crackling in quiet booms and streaks throughout the clouds. This one did not come in from the Glowing Sea at least, and the gentle rain that followed seemed to wash away the rot and decay.

\---

The rain however made Diamond City a much sadder place. Nick watched as it fell in a continuous downpour from the small alleyway that lead to his door. A cigarette hung from his lips. He took a drag on the stick, eyes closing while the end of it glowed bright before he exhaled, smoke billowing gently in front of him. A quiet voice came from his right. He looked towards the source, seeing Heather with the pink neon light glowing on her face.

“That smoke isn’t good for your circuitry,” she said, voice softened by the steady sound of rainfall.

She stood there in the rain looking at him, sopping wet from head to toe. The look of defeat on her face was all too familiar, having become less and less of a wearable mask as time crept by.

“How long have you been out here in this?” he turned, dropping the cigarette and smothering it with his shoe, “Come inside. You’re going to catch cold.”

Heather hesitated briefly before following him inside, becoming enwrapt by an old towel almost as soon as she stepped through the doorway. “You’ll need a change of clothes too,” Nick muttered, as if to himself. He turned to sift through supplies and meager belongings, hoping that Ellie wouldn’t mind allowing Ellie to wear a spare outfit of hers.

“Why?”

The question came as if as an afterthought.

“You want to stay in those wet clothes?”

“No, I mean why do you care?”

This particular question gave Nick pause, catching him completely off guard. He turned towards the girl completely, “Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”

Heather brought her arms up in a shrug, “Is there a reason you should?” She took the towel and began drying herself as best she could, “I appreciate it… but we don’t know each other.”

“I know who you are, Heather,” Nick said quietly, “I know you as well as Nick did.”

“No, you don’t,” Heather shook her head, “Just because you have his memories in front of you like some sort of encyclopedia, that doesn’t mean you know me for who I am.”

“Whether I know you or not doesn’t matter,” said Nick as he turned away again, grabbing a worn t-shirt and pair of shorts to toss to Heather, “I care because I do. I care because I have no reason not too.” He took the garments and pushed them into her hands, “My identity has been something I’ve been wrestling with for ages, now. I may not be him, but all of his memories are here. Of before the war, of Jenny, of you--” he paused momentarily, “Of everything up until he went for his brain scan. I don’t know why he did it, other than to volunteer for this experiment.”

Heather took a moment to respond, holding the clothes and briefly forgetting about them, “I never knew… he never told me that he partook in such a thing.”

“It was some time before you were put in the hospital I’m sure,” Nick mused, “Which I’d like to know more about. I don’t know whether or not Nick knew of it, but I’m curious. It’s very rare that anyone is put into cryostasis while they’re still alive in the hospital, much less for two centuries.”

Two centuries. This was made known to Heather recently and she still couldn’t believe it.

“If Nick’s memories are there for you to peruse, it shouldn’t be too hard to figure out.”

Nick turned around, folding his arms across his chest and giving Heather the privacy needed to change clothes.

“Other than the worst, blood-boiling possibilities, I got nothin’,” he said.

“Do you remember Kyle?” she asked.

“Scumbag,” was Nick’s simple response, voice slightly growling out the word.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I’m going to take an educated guess and say that he put you in the hospital.”

It took Heather a moment to answer, less casually this time, “Yes.”

“For God’s sake, Hogue…”

Heather sat down on the couch near Nick’s desk, looking at him, but saying nothing.

“What happened?” His question was a borderline demand.

“I can’t remember exactly,” she said, voice quiet, “Other than the obvious that I was manhandled in the least gentle of ways.”

“That isn’t funny, Hogue.”

“It’s not supposed to be.”

“No doubt he’s probably not around for a good thrashing of his own,” Nick grumbled, “I can only hope that piece of garbage got what was coming to him.”

Heather could only shrug, “So now you know why I was in the hospital. Did that do anything for you except make you slightly miffed?”

The way Hogue said this startled Nick. “You’re awfully dismissive about being violently assaulted,” he said with a grunt.

“My relationship with Kyle is none of your damn business. Just like your relationship with Jenny wasn’t any of mine,” was Heather’s retort. She blinked, surprised by what she said, then struggled to correct herself, “...I mean Nick. _Nick’s_ relationship with Jenny.. That is. Everyone left it alone back then. Why does that have to stop now?”

Nick couldn’t stop himself from staring at Heather, who, after a time, meekly looked away from him. “Heather, if I--If Nick had known--”

She cut him off, voice barely above a whisper, “I think he already did, deep down… He just either didn’t want to admit it or was too distracted to pay it any mind. Everything was fine until… until Jenny died.”

Nick remembered how close Jenny and Hogue were. Jennifer, dark oak brown hair, pale skin with large eyes and a bright smile painted pretty with ruby red lipstick, and Heather, with her eyes dark under the lids and dressed far more casually than the elder of the two. He knew the difficulties both of them had with one another, difficulties that he himself had trouble facing, both then and now. Her words rang painfully true, for both herself and for him. The anger and need for justice made his blood burn like fire in his veins.

Well, _Nick’s_ veins.

“Can we talk about something else?” Heather asked, her voice quiet, not looking up at the detective.

“Mm,” Nick sat down on his chair, turning it to face her.

“So um, while I’m here,” Heather started, a bit awkwardly, “I want to be useful. I don’t like just sitting here or being gawked at outside as the ‘new girl’. Can I…? ...do anything for you? Anything? For money? Like… I don’t know, like, cleaning or something? Please?”

Nick seemed to consider this, “Let’s see… I have a partner, and a secretary… I suppose I could have you deliver things. But nothing outside the city.”

“Why not?”

“Because there are things out there that will rip you to shreds, far worse than that clod you dated.”

“What if I had a gun?”

“Won’t be enough. You’re not leaving unless I accompany you.”

“What am I, fifteen? Nick, I can handle myself.”

“Would you be angry with me if I told you I don’t trust that you can?”

“Yes!”

“Then get angry, kiddo. You’re not leaving unless I’m accompanying you. Now, I have a few things that need delivering. Ellie will be glad to be free of the burden.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretend Nick's house has a couch in it.
> 
> Sorry for this chapter's disjointedness... it was a bit difficult to write. It was supposed to be lighthearted! And then feelings happened.


	6. Chapter 6

It would have been two months after Nick officially proposed that Heather found out about his engagement to Jennifer. Two whole months she fussed, unsure of what was going on around her, if the signs she saw were true or mere figments of her imagination. Jenny and Nick both were all grins and smiles, and were often missing in action whenever Heather tried to call on either of them. Little paper notes had been strewn about, indicating that a question was to be popped by a certain detective. It made Heather’s heart flutter.

_I don’t know why I had the thoughts I did that day…_

Nick was going to propose to someone. But propose what? To whom? Perhaps… perhaps he and Jenny thought that maybe they weren’t working out. Maybe Nick wanted…

_What a dumb, foolish brat I was._

Heather allowed herself to buy into such a fantasy, waking up with a glowing smile on her face and excitement beating in her chest. Her heart swelled whenever she saw Nick. It was strange, though. If Nick wanted to be with her… surely he would have spoken to her about it by now? Nick wasn’t the type to draw something out, but Heather thought it ultimately in bad taste to actually ask him about it. That smile of his always managed to drive her musings and curiosities away. Her doubts were vanquished.

The receipt made her wonder, though. Several hundred dollars went into the purchase of a custom-cut diamond and sapphire ring. This was… going awfully fast. Surely Nick was only wanting to ask her to court… not marry.

_Delusional…_

Two months after Nick had proposed to Jennifer, Heather found out the two were engaged. Two months.

Sixty whole days. Sixty days of happy sighs and quiet daydreaming, filled with hopeless imaginings of a man she couldn’t have sweeping her off her feet. Frail, precious daydreams.

:Neither of them told her. Nobody else told her. Not even her own mother, who had known for months that it was going to happen! It wasn’t even from them she found out, but hearsay. She had gone to the precinct and overheard one of Nick’s colleagues speaking of it over coffee. He was even to be one of Nick’s groomsmen.

_Did I even have the right to feel betrayed?_

Heather retreated into her home, a small apartment in downtown Boston, alone on her couch. The television remained off. The visual and auditory stimulation was something she couldn’t bare in those immediate hours. Her torso felt like an empty cavity, a warm, molten pain seething in her chest and ribs. It radiated in her hands and up her arms in brief flashes. Her face was hot, born from the absent consumption of an entire bottle of spirits. The tears didn’t fall until later. Time seemed to freeze and hold its form, like dried molasses, and Heather briefly wondered if the world she lived in was even real. This has to be a nightmare, she thought, albeit vaguely.

The glass castle shattered, but didn’t collapse. Each split in the panes held fast against gravity, denying the release in acceptance of falling down.

Her hands hurt as if they were broken. Her heart was numb, her thoughts clouded white, and limbs weak and fatigued.

_I can’t even remember the days that followed. The next time I saw Nick, though…_

The warm happy glow on her face had all but disappeared, and both Jenny and Nick took ample notice. They were in the middle of preparing for the wedding. Jenny’s finger sported the beautiful engagement ring, centered with a diamond surrounded by small pieces of sapphire. It glinted in the sunlight. It blinded Heather.

It took every ounce of self-control to stop herself from crying. Even now, word of their engagement had still not been passed on to her, this third wheel whom they had once considered family if they still did at all. They asked if she could accompany them for lunch. The mere idea of being with them made her veins throb. She declined as politely as she could before heading straight home, briskly, making sure to keep her head low enough so that those who walked passed would take no notice of her anguish.

_I don’t know who I was angrier with. Them or myself._

\---

Heather watched as life went on below in Diamond City from above. It was raining, though lightly, with light gray clouds hovering above. It was to be evening soon, and the rain smelled a little more like it used to before the bombs were dropped. Heather sat before a ledge, watching the marketplace and sheltered by metal sheets acting as makeshift roofs and walkways for those who had to traverse the tops of the buildings that surrounded the market. In her hand was a bottle of wine, half empty. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, hugging them to her chest. She hadn’t had a proper bath in what felt like weeks. Her eyes were dark underneath.

How many moons had it been since she woke up in the hospital? Had it even been two months? She felt as if she had aged at least a decade, although she knew it hadn’t been a fraction of that length of time. She lost count of the weeks that passed, but there was a deep gloom inside, something she couldn’t be rid of with any amount of alcohol.

“If you were wanting to paint a scene, I can suggest way better areas of Diamond City than the Marketplace,” came Nick’s unsure voice from behind her, “Like… the wall for instance.”

Heather turned her head to acknowledge him, but otherwise didn’t say anything. He climbed up a service ladder and now stood behind her, in his usual trenchcoat attire.

“Would you say no to some company?” he asked.

Heather shrugged after a moment, “No.” She looked back at him, “And before you ask, no, that ‘no’ wasn’t to some company, it was ‘no’ as in, ‘no i would not say no to some company, in fact, I would say ‘yes’ to some company’.”

Nick chuckled, moving to sit next to her. Close, but not too close.

They sat in silence for a short while, watching as the rain fell in a continuous downpour. The sky began to darken as evening fell over the Commonwealth.

“It’s been raining a lot lately,” Nick mused aloud, mildly thankful for the shelter above them as he pulled a carton of cigarettes from his coat pocket. Heather glanced at him as he pulled a stick from the carton with his lips and proceeded to light it with a match. Heather reached and took the match once the cigarette had a nice orange glow at the end and watched the flame as it flicked in the slight Commonwealth breeze.

“You alright, Hogue?” Nick asked after exhaling a cloud of smoke, “You’ve been awfully quiet these past few days.”

The next words came automatically, as if they didn’t belong to Heather at all.

“Nick and Jenny were supposed to get married this month, two-hundred years ago.”

Nick froze, as did Heather. The tension laxed and there was quiet between them.

“...Right,” was Nick’s response, “I barely remember.”

“I still don’t know if… If I would have gone or not. Had it happened,” Heather piped up, her voice small.

“I’m sure they would’ve--”

“Robot-Guy--” Heather interrupted, looking at him. Her lips were parted but no words further came. Instead she looked down at her knees.

“Sorry… Valentine,” she corrected herself. Nick didn’t personally mind the title of ‘Robot-Guy’. From her, he preferred it to ‘Nick’. “I don’t know if you… if Nick, if you have his memories but… there’s something that I was never able to tell him,” her voice was thinning and she sighed, running her hands over her face and through her hair. “Can I talk? To you? I mean, about… this? Him? Me? Jenny?” She looked at him, her nose beginning to redden, “Please?”

Nick gave her a gentle smile, “I’ve been wanting you to talk to me for the longest time, Hogue.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't mean for this chapter to take so long to get out, or to end up so short. Sorry.


	7. Chapter 7

Three simple words were dangerous enough to destroy a person’s life. Nick hated those words, and he wished to some manner of grand creator that in truth they meant little, so that hearing them would lessen whatever blow they would inevitably land, either on himself or the one speaking them. It was after speaking these words that Heather couldn’t look him in the eye, or even look at him period, so obvious was her shame. Granted, he knew the words she spoke were meant not for him, the synth, he realized. But those words still took their toll. He could feel it in his circuitry.

 

Heather held a tattered blanket close to her as opposed to around her, crumpled up and held against her stomach and chest. She had her back to him, sitting with her knees bent and legs folded up against her. She hadn’t been crying, at least not yet, but was exhausted, feeling as though she might burst any moment, but there was nothing left to unleash. “So that’s it,” she said, her voice somewhat strained, “I love you. I love you, Nick. And I hate that I love you… because I shouldn’t. You belong to Jenny, and she you.” She lowered her face and wiped it with the blanket.

 

She sniffled and turned around, scooting on her butt to face him again, “...I’m sorry Robot-guy… I really am… Ever since I was brought here by Isaac and Hancock, I feel like I’ve treated you like trash… I didn’t mean to--”

 

Nick shook his head, offering a gentle smile, voice light, “Don’t worry about it, Hogue. You were scared. Hell, you still appear to be. But it’s alright. You don’t need to be scared, sweetheart.”

 

Heather shook her head, “No… I’m not scared. Not anymore.” Her eyes were welled up with tears that refused to fall. Her nose was a different story, however, and she continuously wiped at her nose with the blanket. She made a note to wash it later, “But I’m sad. There was… so much I wanted to tell him while he was alive. I keep wanting to believe that maybe he lives on in you. But I know he doesn’t… You… you act so much like him. But you also have your own bits… I was so scared at first. But now, I think I’m okay. You have Nick’s memories and his personality and all that… But you’re you, too.”

 

Nick stared at her, almost dumbfounded, “Are you sure about that?”

 

“Of course I’m sure,” she said, wiping her eyes, “You do act like him, but there are parts that are different. They’re very subtle. But… I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything, Robot-guy. I feel like such a fool. Such a stupid little brat.”

 

“Stop that,” Nick said, frowning at her.

 

She stopped, looking at him, pressing her lips together, “I--I’m sorry--”

 

“No, Hogue,” he said, getting up and moving closer to her, grabbing her and pulling her against him, “that’s enough. That’s enough apologizing for one lifetime.”

 

Heather found her face against what would have been his collarbone, her hands against his chest and her back held by his arms. The flesh-encased hand stroked her hair. She froze for a moment, and Nick allowed her to gradually settle into his embrace.

 

“Many moons ago, Isaac, the fella that helped you out of the hospital, helped me in taking down the man that had Jenny killed,” he said after a brief moment of quiet. Half of her face was buried into his chest, and she was warm, her small body expanding and receding with each soft breath she took, “When that man fell dead as a doornail on the ground, I expected to feel a weight come off my shoulders. But it never did. I expected Nick’s essence to just… wear off right then and there. And I could become my own person, apart from him.” His voice was gentle and Heather relaxed against him, listening in silence.

 

“But it didn’t. I still had his memories, still felt the utter grief over Jenny’s death. I couldn’t think of anything else at that time. But justice was served, and along with Isaac, I found fit to claim that act as my nod to Nick’s legacy, continuing and finishing where he left off. It was the most amount of respect and thanks I could ever hope to pay and re-pay respectively,” he said. His voice lowered, “When you came around… I didn’t know what to think. I think I was as frightened as you were. Just as sad and overwhelmed. In a way I’m glad Nick’s expertise in Heather-Hogue-ology was still intact, otherwise… I don’t know what I would have done.”

 

“Hm-hm,” Heather gave a sad chuckle, closing her eyes.

 

“But that feeling came back. That utter dread. Nick’s past was coming back, hitting me full-force in the form of a hysterical young girl who had just come out of freeze-sleep.”

 

Nick stopped abruptly, eyes darting up as a sudden thought hit him, “Hm…”

 

She looked up at him, “Hm?”

 

“Oh, nothing,” he stroked her hair lightly, “I’m glad I got to meet you, Hogue. Truly. Even though I technically already knew you. I only ever wanted to help.”

 

Heather settled against him, “I’m… glad, too. I mean, I wish I hadn’t ended up in the hospital, but… Given all that’s occurred, it could have turned out a lot worse.” She was quiet for a moment, before asking, “Is it okay if I call you Nick? I think… I think I just want to get past everything now. And calling you Robot-guy is kind of a mouthful.” Nick was smiling, the skin around the intact parts of his cheeks crinkling at the laughlines. He turned his face slightly, kissing the top of her head.

 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Hogue.”

 

“Thank you,” she murmured softly.

 

They sat there for a bit, Hogue calm and quiet in Nick’s arms while he looked on over the realm of Diamond City. The nightly wind was soft and cool, and Heather’s eyes were closed. The wavy curls of her hair danced on the zephyrs. Nick closed his eyes as well at the soothing touch of the breeze at his back. This calmness had been lost on him for so long it seemed. He could easily turn off and rest with Hogue in his arms for a good eternity if he so wished.

 

Amidst the quiet was a loud, hideous gurgle.

 

Nick looked down at Heather, glowing eyes blinking and wide in surprise.

 

“Ugh,” she clasped her stomach, “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

 

“You sure? That sounded intentional.”

 

“Uggghh.”

 

Nick chuckled warmly.

 

Heather laughed, a strained sound that sounded partly like whining sobs, “I’m hungry!”

 

“And whose fault is that?”

 

“It’s yours. Feed me!”

 

“Takahashi will fix you up.”

 

“But I don’t have any caps.”

 

“I have caps. Come on, I’ll get you some noodles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted something a little light-hearted. Sorry it took so long!

**Author's Note:**

> Very short prologue to introduce the original character. All the cool peeps everyone likes will be appearing in Chapter 1 and onwards, I promise.


End file.
